


Haircut

by natsora



Series: The Lost Daughter [10]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Mass Effect 3, hair cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: Even with the Reaper war raging on, it’s still the little things that matters. Within the relative peace of her quarters, Shepard seeks to keep herself afloat in these trying times. Taking some time for herself, she decides her hair is too long. Liara helps Shepard takes care it.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Series: The Lost Daughter [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1033502
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Shepard looked at the mirror, fingers tugging at her red hair. She hummed. It was way past regulation length, not that regulations meant much these days. Who was going to come give her latrine duties for having hair this long anyway? Still, it was difficult to pull on the cap of her undersuit when it came time to don her armour. She spent more time encased in metal and plates than she did wearing her uniform these days. 

Both sides of her head spotted were shaved down, forming an undercut, one that was sorely in need of some trimming. It was sticking out every which way. That left the longer strands on the top of her head to fall over her face. Shepard sighed and pushed her hair back, tugging some into a rough braid.

“Shepard, something wrong?” a voice drifted in. 

Shepard stepped out, leaning her weight against the door frame, a smile tugged at her lips, a small lopsided one just for Liara. Liara looked good in _her_ N7 hoodie. It might be little too broad at the shoulders, the sleeves a little too short, but the hoodie still hung right her, like it always belonged. Worn thin by how often Shepard had wore it, she had offered Liara a brand new one. Fuck knew, she had plenty. Liara’s only response was to bury her face into the fabric.

How did she ever lived without Liara in her life? Just having those ocean blue eyes looking into hers calmed the anxiety that threatened to choke her if she wasn’t constantly working. Shepard had been struggling to stay afloat, making her own self discovery at the worst possible time, forced to confront her mental demons in a hellish six months. It was only now she realised she was no longer fighting for air, she had found solid ground in a most remarkable woman. 

“Shepard?” 

Shepard shook her head and her hair flopped over. She grunted and brushed it out of her face, her smile slipping. Liara chuckled and put the datapad she was holding down. Crossing the space between them in a couple of graceful steps, a cool hand grabbed Shepard’s. Skin against skin, the touch still felt new, branding across her skin like it was something she didn’t deserve.

Shepard inhaled, slow and deliberate, she shuffled that thought to the back of her mind. There was no way she’d allow her thoughts to poison what precious good she had. Managing the war effort, if it could ever be called managing, not merely surviving, was exhausting enough, she had to protect this tiny oasis of light. 

“Are you all right?” Liara pressed, her grip tightened, her voice quivering a little. 

“I am,” Shepard smiled, the barest of upwards tug of her lips. It was all she could manage. War was exhausting. “It’s just my hair.”

Liara tugged on her arm and led her towards the bed. A slight pressure against Shepards shoulders and she sat down heavily as Liara stood before her. Liara ran her fingers through Shepard’s hair. “I like it. The red is just you.”

“It’s not my actual hair colour you know,” Shepard reminded, eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the light scratching over her scalp. It was lulling her into a relaxed daze. 

“I know that, Nike,” Liara used her childhood name. A name that tied Shepard to a time and place long gone, a name she had while running with the Reds. It was a name only Liara knew, having roamed the spaces in her mind. “You do still owe me 500 credits, if we’re going to factor in the standard interest rates, it would be—”

“That will never not be a thing, will it?” It still blew Shepard’s mind that they had met when she was but a stupid kid running the streets.

“Never,” Liara confirmed, laughing. “I look forward to collecting eventually.”

Shepard groaned. “Can’t you forgive the folly of a child?”

“I can, but that doesn’t mean I won’t collect.” 

Liara pulled her fingers free from Shepard’s hair. She opened her eyes, feeling the loss of Liara’s deft hands. 

“Where are you going?”

“Just hold on.”

Liara fetched a chair from the desk and brought it into the bathroom. Shepard sighed a contented little sound, scratching at the angry red lines that tracked a splintering path all over her body. 

“Stop scratching,” Liara’s voice drifted out. 

“I wasn’t.”

The silence that came after was filled with exasperation. Shepard huffed a soft sound of amusement, but she dropped her hands, bracing them against the bed frame, allowing Liara time to prepare whatever she had planned. 

Her quarters used to be cold and sterile, nothing but a prison, the Normandy her gilded cage. Display shelves meant for model ships laid empty. It was a hobby she hadn’t picked up after her death. When one was faced with a suicide mission, old friends laid in harm’s way, the Illusive Man’s constant whisperings in her ears, she had spent all her time threading water, just one step shy of drowning, hobbies were the last thing on her mind. 

There were signs of living, rather than just mere existence, now. Datapads both hers and Liara’s piled on their shared desk. The sheets on the bed were rumpled and slept in, made haphazardly by piling the pillows against the headboard and hiding unfolded blankets behind them. Years of military discipline gave way to her childhood inclinations of unmade beds. Half drank cups of tea, both hers and Liara’s, her pistol and its cleaning supplies laid out on her desk. Glyph sometimes making an appearance, with EDI’s permission, in her — their quarters with new reports from agents on the field. 

The situation made her angry sometimes. It took the ending of the galaxy before she finally had all she ever wanted within her grasp, it took her this long to figure her shit out, to put it all together, to finally allow herself to take what was freely given all this time. She took a shuddering breath and locked those thoughts away. Standing up, she strode towards the bathroom. Movement always helped keep the poison at bay. 

“Do you need help?” her words faded to silence. 

A chair was situated in the shower area, a pair of scissors and an electric razor rested on a shelf nearby. Her eyes widened. Liara smiled. It wasn’t the shy tentative one that was directed at her while they chased Saren. Shepard had been blind to it then, but now she knew better. THis smile was confident and soft. It was a smile that reached her life, ligting her up from the within. It was home, it was comfort, it was rest, most of all it was permission to be Riley Shepard, not Commander Shepard.

“Take a seat,” Liara urged, taking hold of Shepard’s hand, leading her to the chair. 

Shepard sank down as Liara pulled a plastic sheet over her shoulders, leaving her just head and neck above it. “Where did you get this?”

“I had flash forged it from my omni-tool,” Liara replied easily, freeing Shepard’s hair from the braid. “Glyph found me the schematics.”

Liara came around to her front and ran her fingers through her hair again. Shepard hummed with pleasure. “So how do you want it?” Liara asked. 

“Short.”

“How short?”

Shepard’s shoulders raised and fell in a shrug. 

“I don’t want to mess it up,” Liara said, tugging Shepard’s fringe down, measuring it against her face. 

“You won’t, I trust you,” Shepard replied with utter confidence. If Liara could unearth ancient Prothean artifacts, what was some hair? “Besides, if it goes that badly, I guess I could just buzz it down.”

“No,” Liara’s smile dropped in shocked aghast.

“Well then,” Shepard’s smile widened, “I guess you have to be careful then.”

Liara narrowed her eyes. wrinkling her nose as she shot her a look. Shepard just chuckled. She could be content with this. She would be happy with this. This was all she ever wanted. Someone who knew her, all of her, her past and her present, and had accepted her in her totality. Liara was that person. She had just been too stupid to see it before, confident in her assumption she was as straight as humanly possible. What a joke that had been. 

Orange ran over her face as Liara took a scan of her head from all sides. Fingers danced across her omni-tool as Liara adjusted parameters and swiped across multiple screens. The slight furrow between Liara’s brow, the look of utter concentration, on something as minor as her hair was endearing. Shepard wished she could freeze time. She could live her life in this one single moment, and the Reapers could go fuck themselves. 

“Glyph please project it,” Liara’s voice dragged her from her musings. 

Shepard blinked against the orange light, wincing. 

“Might be better if you close your eyes.”

“Thought so.”

Rustling, Liara’s fingers brushed against the plastic sheet, gentle hands combing through her hair and positioning her head, the telltale sound of a pair of scissors being picked up. 

“Are you ready?” Liara’s voice danced across her left ear. 

It tickled. “Are _you_ ready?”

Liara smacked her shoulder. A soft inhale and then a softer exhale as she pressed lightly against Shepard’s head, pulling strands of hair. 

Snick, snick, snick. The scissors went. 

Cold metal quivered against her ear, tentative at first, but confidence took hold as more and more hair fell. Shepard endeavoured to hold as still as she could so that Liara’s job wasn’t more difficult than it had to be. 

Fell strands pattered against the plastic sheet like rain. Fingers tugged at her hair before teasing them up again to check its length. Seconds passed like minutes. With only the weight of Liara’s presence brushing across her awareness, the steady breath from her lover’s lungs filling her ears, Shepard almost felt like she was going to float away. 

The buzz of the electric razor jerked her back to reality. It stopped as abruptly as it started. “Did I cut you?” Liara asked, a hush sort of worry lacing through her voice. 

Shepard kept her eyes closed and shook her head. “No, I had almost fallen asleep.”

“Are you complaining I’m taking too long?” annoyance made Liara’s voice sharp. 

Shepard opened her eyes. “No, I just…” The words died in her mouth when she noticed the glint of a smirk. Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, yes you’re taking _way_ too long.”

Liara laughed. It sounded like wind chimes clinking together in the wind —effortless, pure and clean. Shepard sagged back against the chair. The tension she had held since she had regained command of the Normandy, the weight of an entire galaxy choking her, pressing against her mind at all waking hours, eased just a little. Her laughter joined Liara’s and for a while nothing else existed. 

“All right, let me finish this.”

Shepard closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the feeling for as long as she could. With what was to come, she needed this. 

* * *

“So how does it look?” Liara asked. She hovered behind Shepard’s shoulder as Shepard studied her new haircut in the mirror. 

Shepard swept her fringe over to the right and they stayed there. It was probably a miracle all by itself. The length was long enough she could braid it if she wanted to while the sides and back were kept short. 

“I love it.” Turning around she took Liara’s hand and dragged her out of the bathroom. The mess could wait for a little longer.

“Really?” Liara pressed. “I just made a model using the scans of your head and adjusted your hair in the virtual environment so that it’s shorter making it makes it easier for you to don your armour but maintaining the length and style that…”

Shepard’s left hand did not relinquish Liara’s hand as they stepped out. A smirk took hold of her lips as one eyebrow rose to meet Liara’s almost shy gaze at her. “That?” 

“That I liked.” The words escaped from Liara’s lips like they were state secrets. 

“Uh huh.”

“So I had Glyph mark out the spots I have to trim and…” Liara’s eyes narrowed. “Are you teasing me?”

“What does your gut tell you?”

“Shepard,” Liara groaned, ready to pull away but Shepard tightened her grip. 

Shepard pressed her lips against Liara’s fingers. “Thank you.” The gratitude was sincere and heartfelt.

“For the haircut?” 

Her green eyes studied Liara’s face, tinged blue by the aquarium, shimmering lights played across her face and crests. Those blue, blue eyes looking at her, _seeing_ her for who she was and accepting all of her. Holding her safe when she struggled, but yet letting her go when the galaxy called. They had a thread woven between them that stretched from her childhood on Earth, tracing its way to that month she was holed up on the Citadel right after Elysium, wending its way to Therum, past Saren, Alchera, the Shadow Broker’s base, leading it to right here and right now. A lump formed in Shepard’s throat as tears burnt at the back of her eyes. She blinked them back. There would be time for tears, but this wasn’t it. 

“Among other things,” Shepard said, “among other things, Liara.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


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